Contents

Allow me to be the first to say that what we have done here is not a good thing. It's definitely not a good thing. But it was, given the circumstances, the smart play.

If you take away the horror of the scene, take away the tragedy of the death, take away all the moral and ethical implications that have been drilled into your head since grade one, do you know what you're left with? A 105-pound problem that needs to be moved from point A to point B.

That's not the point, Adam. I mean, the room is covered in blow; Moore looks like he went at it with a fuckin' mountain lion; I mean, the room looks like the Manson family stayed here a month. This is a major thin-ice situation we got here.

Mike: Dad used to bring home these sparklers for me and Adam, you know? [laughs] Sparklers! We'd go out back, the three of us - and we'd hold it up to the sky and watch the explosions of light and the sparks, you know, and Dad would be all "Wait for it! Here it comes! Watch for it! Here comes the wahoo!"

Kyle: Wahoo?

Mike: Wahoo. The sparkler would burn hot, then hotter, then even hotter, and then there'd be this one moment of pure burn when that little fucker would cook perfect, just perfect. It would only last a second, but that second was it. And that's what Dad had us looking for, man.

Kyle: The wahoo moment?

Mike: That's exactly right. Man - burning at his absolute. All the forces coming together - burning - just perfect, perfect harmony. That's what I'm driving at. Are you with me?

Kyle: I think so.

Mike: I have been looking for that flash. I've been looking and I've been looking, and I can't find it. What if it already happened, you know? My moment! What if it already happened and I didn't see it?

Mike: Look at 'em. I'm amazed the windows don't blow out of their fucking sockets with all the ass-puckering rage in these soulless lizards.

Kyle: I just want her to be happy.

Mike: The same alarm clock every morning, same two pops on the same snooze button, same shower, towel, toothbrush, razor, blazer, hair pump, gel spray. It's a fucking epidemic, Fisher. You're getting married, baby. I'm not going to candy-coat it - it just gets worse. It's an eighteen-wheel cement truck that's going to crush every bone in your big body.

Tina: You know it's 500, right?

Mike: Yeah. Oh, yeah, no problem. Yeah, I mean... 500 of my dollars?

Tina: Right. Right.

Mike: But I thought... Boyd didn't pay?

Tina: No, Boyd didn't pay. It's 500.

Mike: Cool.

Tina: Straight sex, nothing kinky. Just...

Mike: No, no, no. I'm not gonna try to use you as a hand puppet or anything. I just wanna...

Tina: Okay.

Mike: ...make sweet love to you because you have no idea what you've gotten into.

Mike: We were playing. She bumped her head.

Adam: Bumped? BUMPED? She's got a fuckin' spike in her head!

Boyd: Now, let's just take a second here and take a hold of the situation and review our options.

Adam: We'll call the police!

Boyd: Call the police. Good. That's one option.

Adam: That's not an option! This is not multiple choice, here!

Boyd: Yes, it is. There are always options, Adam. Nobody knows she's here. I called her personally. Nobody knows.

Adam: Her blood is all over the bathroom! Don't you think we got a little bit of a DNA problem here?

Boyd: It's a marble floor. We can clean it up. A simple vote. We've got two choices. One: we clean up this mess, right now, bury it out in the desert, go home, and never look back - or, we can easily call the police, roll the dice, take our chances, and pray to God that it's only Michael who falls.

[Michael looks up, stricken]

Boyd: Our choices are simple: desert - or police.

Security Guard: [seeing the mess in the room] What the hell gets into you people?